


You're The Monster You Hate

by Felicity_The_Cat



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Blood and Gore, Brutal Murder, Captivity, Child Murder, Death, Dismemberment, Psychological Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:33:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24032074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felicity_The_Cat/pseuds/Felicity_The_Cat
Summary: Thirty years have passed since the horrific murders at Freddy's, and those horrific memories were slowly fading away. Fazbear's fright had burnt to the ground, leaving its monster to seek refuge in the place he had once called home. An old 'friend' hasn't forgotten his sins, though. Henry intends to make William suffer, no matter who he has to hurt to do so.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 58





	You're The Monster You Hate

**Author's Note:**

> Warning-
> 
> This fic has graphic descriptions of death, torture, and gore involving children and adults. You've been warned.

Micheal lay, dead at his feet. The young man’s stomach had been sliced open, and his guts were visible in the dim light. Springtrap stood, both horrified and heartbroken as his last surviving child went cold at his feet. The life in Micheal’s eyes was fading, and as blood pooled around him, it made Springtrap shudder. The rabbit let out a broken noise akin to a sob, and the redhead in front of him enjoyed the noise. Micheal had never wanted to see his father again, but Henry seemed to have other plans for his ex-friends only surviving child.

When Micheal had found out about his father’s horrible sins, he had moved far away and never looked back. He had never contacted William again, but Will had never held that against him. After everything he had done, Micheal had every right to hate him and run away. William had no idea how Henry had even managed to track his son down, but Micheal apparently hadn’t hidden well enough. William had respected his son’s decision to vanish, but Henry clearly didn’t.

“How does it feel?” The rabbit heard Henry ask from where he stood; bloodied axe still in hand.

Springtrap trembled, unable to tear his eyes away from his son. Micheal had screamed and pleaded for him to help; he knew that the rotten animatronic in front of him was his father and whether it was from fear or desperation, he had called out for his father’s help.

Springtrap had tried to make a move towards his son, desperately trying to save the last living person he cared for. The chains around his neck, hands, and feet prevented him from reaching his son, though. Henry had merely grinned before driving the axe into Micheal’s stomach.

“How does it feel,” Henry repeated, “-to lose a child?”

Springtrap shook. He was crying, even though this body produced no tears.

The rabbit had been down here for months, being subjected to torture in the basement of a place that William had once called home. It was no longer a home, though. It was just a house now.

After escaping the blaze at Fazbear’s Fright, he had sought out refuge in the only place he knew he could hide. He no longer meant any harm, he only wished to hide in the safety of his old house, decaying along with it as the forest overtook the yard where his children once played.

“I’ve lost all of them.” The rabbit finally growled. Henry didn’t seem phased. He glanced down at Micheal’s corpse, then back up to the rabbit he called a prisoner.

“Your sins will never be forgiven, old friend.” Henry hummed with a sickeningly happy smile. William lowered himself to his knees, still trying to reach out and pull his son’s body close to him. There was no saving Micheal now, and he knew that. He hadn’t seen his son in over thirty years, but this wasn’t how he wanted to remember him. Micheal’s plea for help would be forever burnt into his mind, though. At least he had the decency to steal Charlie away out of Henry’s sight, even though that didn’t make it right.

“You never saw his children, did you?” Henry asked with a curious cock of his head. Springtrap froze, and his eyes slowly drifted up to meet Henry’s as the man approached.

“Three. Two boys and a pretty little daughter.” The man hummed.

Springtrap lowered his ears and shook his head. “You didn’t.” He hissed out desperately. “Tell me you didn’t.” Springtrap’s fears were confirmed when Henry turned to make his way back to the bottom of the basement steps. He had carried a small black garbage bag to the bottom of the stairs with him before dragging Micheal down, and now the bag’s contents petrified the chained animatronic.

Springtrap’s eyes fell shut and he looked away, bracing for the worst as the sound of the bag dragging across the floor filled his ears.

“Look.” Henry hissed. “Look what you’ve done.”

“I did nothing!” Springtrap barked, still refusing to open his eyes.

“Look!” Henry screamed at the top of his lungs as he whacked the rabbit across the face with the blunt end of his axe. Springtrap’s head spun as his eyes shot open. He felt no pain, but the impact made him dizzy and sick. What lay before him was horrific. The bag in front of him had been opened, but the contents still hid inside. The pool of blood pouring out from the opening was enough for Springtrap to realize what _was_ inside, though.

“They had nothing to do with me…” Springtrap growled as his gaze returned to Henry once again. “Mike left to get away from me. You fucking knew that.”

“And I knew that you took Charlie away from me, William. Now I’m taking something away from you.” Springtrap shuffled away from the bag before the blood could reach his robotic fingers. Whatever was in that bag, whether it was Micheal’s children or not, he didn’t want to touch it. 

The bloodshed had ended thirty years ago when he had died in this suit. He would have spent an eternity at that attraction had Henry not burnt down his old prison, unintentionally freeing both the rabbit and the being that he feared. The Puppet had escaped the blaze as well, stared at Springtrap for some time, then wandered away into the woods. She no longer had a quarrel with him, he knew. He had paid the price of his sins with his life, and Charlie wanted nothing more from him. He had avoided her the entire time he resided in that attraction, and the phantoms had avoided him as well. They were done with each other, as far as they were concerned. The score had been settled and the bodies had rot.

“Micheal didn’t want anything to do with me. His children never even knew me, Henry. They had nothing to do with me, Freddy’s… or Charlie.” Springtrap’s gaze was directed at the floor again; he was refusing to look at Henry or the bag in front of him.

“Do you think I was hurting anyone hiding here?” The rabbit was shaking again.

“It doesn’t matter.” Henry hissed. He leaned forward and grabbed onto the black bag, then quickly yanked on it, dumping the contents onto the concrete floor. Blood splattered onto the cement, and out toppled the lifeless body of a little girl. Her red hair was soaked with blood, her eyes were cloudy and distant, and her mouth was hanging open in a permanent look of horror.

Only half of her body was there, though. It looked like she had been chopped in half, and one glance at the axe Henry was still clinging to told Springtrap all he needed to know.

Her spine had visibly been broken, her ribs cracked, and her intestines were now lying on the floor, hanging out of what remained of her body. Several deep punctures were visible on her chest, and blood stained her pretty green pajama top.

She looked to be about six years old, but none of that mattered, William supposed with a disgusted shiver. He wanted to pull the body closer to himself in some pointless attempt to comfort her, but she was dead. She was a corpse, just like her father, just like her Uncle and Aunt she never knew… Just like her grandmother. Springtrap refrained from touching her. It felt wrong to touch a dead child. He hadn’t laid eyes upon one for several years, but his kills had never been this messy. One quick slice across the neck was all he had ever needed to bring his victims down, but this child’s neck was perfectly intact. She… had been chopped into while she was still alive.

William stared in horror and disgust, and he finally found it in himself to shy away from the corpse, retreating to the corner of the basement where his chains hugged the strong pipes that kept him from preventing this.

“What’s wrong, William?” Henry scoffed with a nod towards the corpse.

“Don’t you live for this stuff? Aren’t dead kids just a treat for you?”

“Enough, Henry.” The rabbit muttered as he trembled. 

Henry grinned ear to ear as he looked down at his handiwork. Micheal was dead at his feet, along with one of his bastard offspring. The other kids hadn’t been home, lucky for them, so Henry had taken what he could get. 

“Maybe in a few months, I can get his wife.” Henry began with a disgusting snicker as he paced around the stiffening corpse. “Then I can get the boys too. I can scrub your bloodline from the earth completely. Wouldn’t that be great, Will? Then we can finally put all of this to rest.”

“It was already over, you fucking bastard!” William spat as he lunged forward, reaching out for Henry with death in his artificial eyes. The chains did their job and kept him at bay, though. Even he wasn’t strong enough to rip the metal pipes from the walls. 

Henry shook his head in amusement, softly clicking his tongue in disappointment.

“You’ve never known when to give up and lie down, Will. I was going to give Micheal a nice burial in an unmarked grave in the back yard.” Springtrap’s eyes widened in horror as Henry raised his axe, not at Springtrap, but directly above Micheal’s corpse.

“Oh well.”

Before William had the time to scurry away, Henry slammed the blade right into the corpse, splattering the rabbit with blood as a sickening crunch filled the small space.

Springtrap retreated back to his corner again, watching helplessly as Henry mutilated his son’s body. Micheal’s head fell to the side, staring over at him with grey, dead eyes.

Springtrap brought his hands up to cover his face, unable to continue watching as his son’s limbs were hacked and torn off.

  
  


Springtrap slid down the wall and sat, trembling in the corner for what felt like an eternity as the sounds of his son being dismembered filled his ears. Eventually, a small gasp filled the space, and a clanging noise told him that Henry’s axe had fallen to the floor. William hesitantly looked up, unsure of what to expect. Henry stood, eyes blown wide as blood dribbled down his mouth. A tall, dark figure stood directly behind him, staring at Springtrap with a permanent grin. Springtrap looked between the Puppet, Henry, and the long, jagged, metal rod that was now protruding from Henry’s chest. The Puppet let go of Henry, allowing him to fall to the floor into the blood of his victims. 

She looked down at her father with an unreadable expression, then to Springtrap who was still cowering in the corner. If he didn’t know any better, she almost looked sympathetic, but now wasn’t the time or place to worry over her emotions. The Puppet’s gaze drifted back down to Henry as he shifted and choked on the floor, gasping for pointless air as he neared his own expiration date. He looked up at what he knew was his daughter, looking miserable and petrified. “C-Charlie.” He croaked out in a weak, gurgly voice. She was the reason why he had done all of this. He was avenging her. Couldn’t she see that? Didn’t she love him?

Charlie watched silently as her father continued to struggle on the floor, writhing in the pools of blood that weren’t his own. “Charlie,” he managed in a pathetic whine. “Charlie, it’s me, it’s me. Can’t you see that?” Surely she had mistaken him for someone else. He refused to accept that his own daughter had knowingly impaled him. The Puppet stared at him, shifted her weight, and nodded slowly. “I know.” She whispered. Henry’s fear only grew as she looked over at the mutilated corpses nearby. “You’re broken.” She hissed out. “Your mind is shattered, and your soul is black.”   
  


Henry continued to tremble on the floor. “Charlie,” he whined out. The Puppet looked to Springtrap, taking in the sight of him. He was weak, defenseless and chained. It reminded her of a time when she was in the same position; powerless to those around her, and it had cost her life. Henry continued to struggle on the floor, unwilling and unable to accept that he was dead. “You’ve become the monster that you hate.” Charlie continued. “You took lives that weren’t yours. You killed children. You’re just like him.”   
Henry shook his head in horror. “No, no. I’m-“

”No different.” Charlie finished for him. “You are the same as your monsters.”

”Charlie, honey,” Henry sobbed out. Tears were streaming down his bloody face, and he felt genuine fear coursing through his body. “Help me, Charlotte.”

”Don’t call me that.” The Puppet hissed in disgust. “You are not my father anymore.” Henry sobbed and attempted to crawl away from her, desperately searching for some way out of the situation. He was going to die. Charlie knew that, and once he was gone, it would all _finally_ be over. She glanced over at Springtrap, narrowed her eyes, then turned to slip back up the basement steps she had crept down. Springtrap watched her leave, then turned to stare at Henry as the man sucked in weak, shallow breaths.

He felt as if he should say something, but he remained silent as Henry drew his final, pained breaths.

  
William sat in the basement alone, chained and decaying for eternity along with two innocent corpses, and a corpse almost as vile as he.


End file.
